Sacred Cowboys - Bruce Dickinson

With a sense of irony everyone you see is chasing their illusions

Take a dive or sink or swim, but in the end you’re in the same pollution

In your world escape is swift, the nonsense list is all you need to know

In the land of dreams, you make the right connections, then you’ll be the hero

Ecstasy, the cult of me provides our institutions

You can live forever with a grave that stands where people used to function

You can join the saviours of our culture, vultures circling overhead my sky

Like the sin of gluttony won’t set you free, but Betty Ford can help you try

You can get all the things you never needed

You can sell people crap and make them eat it

But where is our John Wayne

Where’s our sacred cowboy now?

Where are the indians on the hill?

There’s no indians left to kill

People die with oxygen and all their money can’t afford a breath

People starving everywhere and staring in the face of death

Prostitutes and politicians laying in their beds together

You can be the saviour of the poor making up the policies to open up the back

door…

You can get all the things you never needed

You can sell people crap and make them eat it

Where is our John Wayne

Where’s our sacred cowboy now?

Where are the indians on the hill?

There’s no indians left to kill

Where is our John Wayne

Where’s our sacred cowboy now?

Where are the indians on the hill?

There’s no indians left to kill

You can get all the things you never needed

You can sell people crap and make them eat it… eat it!

Where is our John Wayne

Where’s our sacred cowboy now?

Where are the indians on the hill?

There’s no indians left to kill

Where is our John Wayne

Where’s our sacred cowboy now?

Where are the indians on the hill?

There’s no indians left to… kill…